The Canterbury Tales · The Prologue (2/3)

A Frankëlin116 was in this company;

White was his beard, as is the daïsy.

Of his complexión he was sanguíne.

Well lov’d he in the morn a sop in wine.

To liven in delight was ever his won,117

For he was Epicurus’ owen son,

That held opinion, that plein118 delight

Was verily felicity perfíte.

An householder, and that a great, was he;

Saint Julian119 he was in his countrý.

His bread, his ale, was alway after one;120

A better envined121 man was nowhere none;

Withouten bake-meat never was his house,

Of fish and flesh, and that so plentëous,

It snowed in his house of meat and drink,

Of allë dainties that men couldë think.

After the sundry seasons of the year,

So changed he his meat and his soupére.

Full many a fat partridge had he in mew,122

And many a bream, and many a luce in stew.123

Woe was his cook, but if124 his saucë were

Poignant and sharp, and ready all his gear.

His table dormant125 in his hall alway

Stood ready cover’d all the longë day.

At sessions there was he lord and sire.

Full often time he was knight of the shire.

An anlace, and a gipciere126 all of silk,

Hung at his girdle, white as morning milk.

A sheriff had he been, and a countour.127

Was nowhere such a worthy vavasour.128

An Haberdasher, and a Carpenter,

A Webbe,129 a Dyer, and a Tapiser,130

Were with us eke, cloth’d in one livery,

Of a solémn and great fraternity.

Full fresh and new their gear y-picked131 was.

Their knivës were y-chaped132 not with brass,

But all with silver wrought full clean and well,

Their girdles and their pouches every deal.133

Well seemed each of them a fair burgéss,

To sitten in a guild-hall, on the dais.134

Evereach, for the wisdom that he can,135

Was shapely136 for to be an alderman.

For chattels haddë they enough and rent,

And eke their wivës would it well assent:

And ellës certain they had been to blame.

It is full fair to be y-clep’d madáme,

And for to go to vigils all before,

And have a mantle royally y-bore.137

A Cook they haddë with them for the nones,138

To boil the chickens and the marrow bones,

And powder merchant tart and galingale.139

Well could he know a draught of London ale.

He couldë roast, and seethe, and broil, and fry,

Makë mortrewës,140 and well bake a pie.

But great harm was it, as it thoughtë me,

That, on his shin a mormal141 haddë he.

For blanc manger,142 that made he with the best.

A Shipman was there, wonned far by West:143

For ought I wot, be was of Dartëmouth.

He rode upon a rouncy, as he couth,144

All in a gown of falding145 to the knee.

A dagger hanging by a lace had he

About his neck under his arm adown;

The hot summer had made his hue all brown;

And certainly he was a good felláw.

Full many a draught of wine he had y-draw

From Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapmen sleep;

Of nicë consciénce took he no keep.

If that he fought, and had the higher hand,

By water he sent them home to every land.

But of his craft to reckon well his tides,

His streamës and his strandës him besides,

His herberow,146 his moon, and lodemanage,147

There was none such, from Hull unto Carthage.

Hardy he was, and wise, I undertake:

With many a tempest had his beard been shake.

He knew well all the havens, as they were,

From Scotland to the Cape of Finisterre,

And every creek in Bretagne and in Spain:

His barge y-cleped was the Magdelain.

With us there was a Doctor of Physic;

In all this worldë was there none him like

To speak of physic, and of surgery:

For he was grounded in astronomy.

He kept his patiént a full great deal

In hourës by his magic natural.

Well could he fortunë148 the áscendent

Of his imáges for his patiént.

He knew the cause of every malady,

Were it of cold, or hot, or moist, or dry,

And where engender’d, and of what humoúr.

He was a very perfect practisour

The cause y-know,149 and of his harm the root,

Anon he gave to the sick man his boot.150

Full ready had he his apothecaries,

To send his druggës and his lectuaries,

For each of them made other for to win:

Their friendship was not newë to begin.

Well knew he the old Esculapius,

And Dioscorides, and eke Rufus;

Old Hippocras, Hali, and Gallien;

Serapion, Rasis, and Avicen;

Averrois, Damascene, and Constantin;

Bernard, and Gatisden, and Gilbertin.151

Of his diet measúrable was he,

For it was of no superfluity,

But of great nourishing, and digestible.

His study was but little on the Bible.

In sanguine and in perse152 he clad was, all

Lined with taffeta, and with sendall.153

And yet he was but easy of dispence:

He kept that he won in the pestilence.154

For gold in physic is a cordial;

Therefore he loved gold in special.

A good Wife was there of besidë Bath,

But she was somedeal deaf, and that was scath.155

Of cloth-making she haddë such an haunt,156

She passed them of Ypres, and of Gaunt.

In all the parish wifë was there none,

That to the off’ring157 before her should gon,

And if there did, certain so wroth was she,

That she was out of allë charity.

Her coverchiefs158 werë full fine of ground;

I durstë swear, they weighedë ten pound

That on the Sunday were upon her head.

Her hosen weren of fine scarlet red,

Full strait y-tied, and shoes full moist159 and new.

Bold was her face, and fair and red of hue.

She was a worthy woman all her live,

Husbands at the church door had she had five,

Withouten other company in youth;

But thereof needeth not to speak as nouth.160

And thrice had she been at Jerusalem;

She haddë passed many a strangë stream;

At Rome she had been, and at Bologne,161

In Galice at Saint James,162 and at Cologne;

She coudë163 much of wand’ring by the way.

Gat-toothed164 was she, soothly for to say.

Upon an ambler easily she sat,

Y-wimpled well, and on her head an hat

As broad as is a buckler or a targe.

A foot-mantle about her hippës large,

And on her feet a pair of spurrës sharp.

In fellowship well could she laugh and carp.165

Of remedies of love she knew perchance,

For of that art she coud166 the oldë dance.

A good man there was of religión,

That was a poorë Parson of a town:

But rich he was of holy thought and werk:167

He was also a learned man, a clerk,

That Christë’s gospel truly wouldë preach.

His parishens devoutly would he teach.

Benign he was, and wonder diligent,

And in adversity full patient:

And such he was y-proved often sithes.168

Full loth were him to cursë for his tithes,

But rather would he given out of doubt,

Unto his poorë parishens about,

Of his off’ring, and eke of his substánce.

He could in little thing have suffisance.169

Wide was his parish, and houses far asunder,

But he ne left not, for no rain nor thunder,

In sickness and in mischief to visit

The farthest in his parish, much and lit,170

Upon his feet, and in his hand a staff.

This noble ensample to his sheep he gaf,171

That first he wrought, and afterward he taught.

Out of the gospel he the wordës caught,

And this figúre he added yet thereto,

That if gold rustë, what should iron do?

For if a priest be foul, on whom we trust,

No wonder is a lewëd172 man to rust:

And shame it is, if that a priest take keep,

To see a shitten shepherd and clean sheep:

Well ought a priest ensample for to give,

By his own cleanness, how his sheep should live.

He settë not his benefice to hire,

And left his sheep eucumber’d in the mire,

And ran unto London, unto Saint Poul’s,

To seekë him a chantery173 for souls,

Or with a brotherhood to be withold:174

But dwelt at home, and keptë well his fold,

So that the wolf ne made it not miscarry.

He was a shepherd, and no mercenary.

And though he holy were, and virtuous,

He was to sinful men not dispitous175

Nor of his speechë dangerous nor dign,176

But in his teaching díscreet and benign.

To drawen folk to heaven, with fairness,

By good ensample, was his business:

But it were177 any person obstinate,

What so he were of high or low estate,

Him would he snibbë178 sharply for the nonës.179

A better priest I trow that nowhere none is.

He waited after no pomp nor reverence,

Nor maked him a spiced consciénce,180

But Christë’s lore, and his apostles’ twelve,

He taught, and first he follow’d it himselve.

With him there was a Ploughman, was his brother,

That had y-laid of dung full many a fother.181

A true swinker182 and a good was he,

Living in peace and perfect charity.

God loved he bestë with all his heart

At allë timës, were it gain or smart,183

And then his neighëbour right as himselve.

He wouldë thresh, and thereto dike,184 and delve,

For Christë’s sake, for every poorë wight,

Withouten hire, if it lay in his might.

His tithës payed he full fair and well,

Both of his proper swink, and his chattel.185

In a tabard186 he rode upon a mare.

There was also a Reeve, and a Millere,

A Sompnour, and a Pardoner also,

A Manciple, and myself, there were no mo’.

The Miller was a stout carle for the nones,

Full big he was of brawn, and eke of bones;

That proved well, for ov’r all where187 he came,

At wrestling he would bear away the ram.188

He was short-shouldered, broad, a thickë gnarr,189

There was no door, that he n’old heave off bar,

Or break it at a running with his head.

His beard as any sow or fox was red,

And thereto broad, as though it were a spade.

Upon the cop190 right of his nose he had

A wart, and thereon stood a tuft of hairs

Red as the bristles of a sowë’s ears.

His nosë-thirlës191 blackë were and wide.

A sword and buckler bare he by his side.

His mouth as widë was as a furnáce.

He was a jangler, and a goliardais,192

And that was most of sin and harlotries.

Well could he stealë corn, and tollë thrice.

And yet he had a thumb of gold, pardie.193

A white coat and a blue hood weared he.

A baggëpipe well could he blow and soun’,

And therewithal he brought us out of town.

A gentle Manciple194 was there of a temple,

Of which achatours195 mightë take ensample

For to be wise in buying of vitaille.

For whether that he paid, or took by taile,196

Algate197 he waited so in his achate,198

That he was aye before in good estate.

Now is not that of God a full fair grace

That such a lewëd mannë’s wit shall pace199

The wisdom of an heap of learned men?

Of masters had he more than thriës ten,

That were of law expert and curious:

Of which there was a dozen in that house,

Worthy to be stewárds of rent and land

Of any lord that is in Engleland,

To makë him live by his proper good,

In honour debtless, but if he were wood,200

Or live as scarcely as him list desire;

And able for to helpen all a shire

In any case that mightë fall or hap;

And yet this Manciple set their allër cap.201

The Reevë202 was a slender choleric man,

His beard was shav’d as nigh as ever he can.

His hair was by his earës round y-shorn;

His top was docked like a priest beforn.

Full longë were his leggës, and full lean,

Y-like a staff, there was no calf y-seen.

Well could he keep a garner and a bin:203

There was no auditor204 could on him win.

Well wist he by the drought, and by the rain,

The yielding of his seed and of his grain.

His lordë’s sheep, his neat,205 and his dairy.

His swine, his horse, his store, and his poultrý,

Were wholly in this Reevë’s governing,

And by his cov’nant gave he reckoning,

Since that his lord was twenty year of age;

There could no man bring him in arrearáge.

There was no bailiff, herd, nor other hine,206

That he ne knew his sleight and his covine:207

They were adrad208 of him, as of the death.

His wonning209 was full fair upon an heath,

With greenë trees y-shadow’d was his place.

He couldë better than his lord purchase.

Full rich he was y-stored privily.

His lord well could he pleasë subtilly,

To give and lend him of his owen good,

And have a thank, and yet210 a coat and hood.

In youth he learned had a good mistére.211

He was a well good wright, a carpentére

This Reevë sate upon a right good stot,212

That was all pomely213 gray, and hightë214 Scot.

A long surcoat of perse215 upon he had,

And by his side he bare a rusty blade.

Of Norfolk was this Reeve, of which I tell,

Beside a town men clepen Baldeswell.

Tucked he was, as is a friar, about,

And ever rode the hinderest of the rout.216

A Sompnour217 was there with us in that place,

That had a fire-red cherubinnës face,

For sausëfleme218 he was, with eyen narrow.

As hot he was and lecherous as a sparrow,

With scalled browës black, and pilled219 beard:

Of his viságe children were sore afeard.

There n’as quicksilver, litharge, nor brimstone,

Boras, ceruse, nor oil of tartar none,

Nor ointëment that wouldë cleanse or bite,

That him might helpen of his whelkës220 white,

Nor of the knobbës221 sitting on his cheeks.

Well lov’d he garlic, onións, and leeks,

And for to drink strong wine as red as blood.

Then would he speak, and cry as he were wood;

And when that he well drunken had the wine,

Then would he speakë no word but Latin.

A fewë termës knew he, two or three,

That he had learned out of some decree;

No wonder is, he heard it all the day.

And eke ye knowen well, how that a jay

Can clepen222 “Wat,” as well as can the Pope.

But whoso would in other thing him grope,223

Then had he spent all his philosophy,

Aye, Questio quid juris,224 would he cry.